


New World Fool

by restlessdreamer



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Shadow Operatives, Shadow Operatives AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlessdreamer/pseuds/restlessdreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, the people who are often given second chances are the ones that don't deserve them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	New World Fool

Chapter 1  
Knight of Swords

 

The industrial gray room feels more like a prison than his cell ever did, the ticking clock counting out a rhythmic drone. Second by second, the time ticks away. It’s an old trick, a classic, really. Put the suspect into a small box with a noise like a heartbeat, and they’ll break eventually under their own guilt. He flashes a hollow smile at the blank glass mirror across from him- he knows that they’re watching. After all, he’s- or was- a detective, too. He knows how to play this game. The only question is, why is he here?

               It’s only been three measly months since his arrest. He had gone voluntarily, after getting beaten by those brats. Damn pain in the ass, really. But he knew when his little game was done, and now he had to live with the consequences. That Shirogane brat had been especially adamant in making sure he’d “face justice”- a long shot, really, and they all knew it. All they had was his confession, circumstantial evidence, and a letter dirtied with the fingerprints of 8 children, his ex-partner, and he himself. With a deep sigh, he leans back in the chair, staring unfocused at plain, white, dull ceiling tiles.

               Boring. Hell, more boring than that town in the sticks. At least then he was doing more than just “contemplating his life” and counting the ceiling tiles in his cell (there were exactly 32). There wasn’t even anything good on the radio, and, well, couldn’t exactly watch TV. Damn fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, eh, Tohru? No family, no friends, no job, no prospects for the future… Even if he doesn’t get convicted, he’s really fucked up his life now, hasn’t he?

               Damn brats should have left him in that other world to die.

               The seconds seem to drag on like minutes, the ticking clock on the wall dragging each moment out longer and longer. Whatever he was supposed to be here for, he wished they’d hurry the hell up. At least he wasn’t in handcuffs in his cell. Geez, maybe that trick would work on him… He straightens his posture, about to pose the mirror a question, when he hears the shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the door. The door rattles, the knob twists, and in steps a man who doesn’t appear to be too much older than himself.

               He’s about mid-thirties. Slightly shaggy hair, neatly combed, with a thin amount of facial hair along his square jaw. A crisp, clean black suit matched with a starched white shirt and a dark blue tie. Too clean and pressed to be a regular detective- at least, not anyone he had ever worked with. And he doesn’t carry himself like a lawyer, but stiff. Formal. Almost governmental.

               “About time you got here. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.” Tohru lets a grin slide across his face, easygoing and disarming. The detective only sits, places the file before him, and studies him carefully. “What, going to drag me all the way out here and not talk to me? Geez, I know Inaba’s the prime example of the boonies, but at least they were friendlier.” He laughs, and it’s as hollow as the smile on his face.

               The agent says nothing, only opens the case file and sorts things out neatly. Another minute goes by, 60 anguished ticks of the dragging clock. Already, he's losing patience with this governmental man. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. "Adachi Tohru, correct?"  
               "No," A sarcastic smirk cuts across his face. "They just sent some poor sap in his place. What do you think?"  
               "I'll take that as a yes, then. You were a former detective in the Inaba case, correct?"  
               "You know, another thing about Inaba? We were at least polite enough to introduce ourselves before jumping straight into an interrogation." The man across from him doesn't change his expression, only readjusts his cuffs.  
               "My apologies. I'm Agent Fujiwara Yoshio with the Public Security Intelligence Agency. I'm here to speak to you about the Inaba incident."

               Public Security, huh? He hadn't realized the case had been important enough to warrant Federal attention. Damn, now he was in really hot water, huh? He leans forward slightly, placing his bound hands on the table.  
               "Look, everything's in the police report and my written confession-"  
               "We're more concerned with what you wrote in an outgoing letter delivered recently. One addressed to a Seta Souji?"

               Tohru's eyes narrow at that. Of course they'd pick through his mail, weird as that case was. Any clue, any detail that could help them turn up some evidence, and they'd need it. Too bad there wasn't any in that letter, outside of some cryptic comments of half-remembered incidents.  
               "Yeah, didn't say much. Only that-"  
               "Only that you and Namatame shared some sort of power. Tell me, Adachi-san. Are you familiar with the term 'Persona'?"

               Persona? What the hell was this agent after? He remembers that... thing. That thing with its twisted, pulsing veins crawling over its coat. The bloody sword in its hand. That thing had spawned from him, right? And oh, what power it contained... With only a few words, he had been all but invincible. His hands are tight around each other as he tries to slip an easygoing smile upon his face. In the mirror, he can see it comes out tired and worn.  
               "Persona? Never heard of it. That some kinda new slang?"  
               "Somehow, I doubt that." He replies cold as ice, fingers pulling a paper from his file and sliding it towards Adachi. "Remember this report you filled out? Namatame's 'confession'?"  
Shit. Of course, Namatame had been a real nutcase. In his own confession, he had mentioned the world behind the TV, how he had been placing people there to keep them safe. How he had no idea how dangerous it could actually have been.  
               "He says right here, 'if it hadn't been for them using their Personas, I think we would all have died instead'."

               "W-Well, you know. That Namatame..." He attempts to laugh, and it falls flat. "He's in a mental ward, right? Unfit to stand trial for insanity or something?" The agent stares at him blankly, then turns a page in his case file.  
               "In your letter to Souji Seta, you state that you knew about the 'Midnight Channel', which Namatame mentions in his confession-"  
               "It was a rumor going around, some stupid kid's stuff-"  
               "- And you mention that 'Namatame and I both gained our power after coming to Inaba'. What power might that be, Adachi-san?"

              Shit. _Shit._ The Agent sits across from him with a blank face, but he can tell that look in his eyes. Fujikawa's got him backed into a corner, all the evidence laid out neatly for him to see. Still, what the hell does he want. And what does it have to do with Personas or shadows or that damned TV world?  
               "Just cut to the chase- what are you really after here." The smile's gone now, and he can't tell at this point if he's angry or just fatigued.  
               "We want to know if you possess a Persona. Simple as that." The agent leans forward into his chair, resting his elbows on the table. Gently, he tents his fingers, flat grey eyes boring holes into him. Tohru leans back in turn. No use denying it now, since the bastard appears to be in on this.

               "Yeah. I've got one. Magatsu-Izawhatever or something. Only used it once. Not like you can use this in court or anything." He rolls his neck slightly, looking at the clock on the wall. "'s what you're after, right? How I really killed them?" The confessions were simple. Nothing fancy, no long exposition on how he did it. Just seven simple words: I killed Konishi Saki and Yamano Mayumi.  
               "Quite the contrary. I'm here to offer you a deal."

               What.

              What the hell did he mean, "A deal"? He sits up straight, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "A deal, huh? Isn't that illegal or something?" A smirk attempts to crawl across his face, waning before it's even begun. He's too damn tired for all of this.  
               "Not necessarily. You'll still be sent to trial. You'll still be found not guilty by way of lack of evidence. Your confession alone is not enough to sentence you, which I'm quite sure that everyone in the Inaba police department knows."

               It was true- that Shirogane brat had tried to figure out ways around it, other things to charge him with that would stick. Nothing had managed to work itself out, though Dojima had taken the bitch's advice and tacked on five counts of Accessory to Kidnapping.

               "However, you signing your own confession tells me something else entirely. You knew you would walk away free from this. You didn't have to sign anything, but now there's a report and a confession with your name on it. So why?"

               Tohru's knuckles are white against each other, tight as the slipknot of guilt around his own heart. Nanako. She was just a child, just a girl- 6 years old. She'd never hurt anyone. She wasn't supposed to be involved in this. But like hell he would say that. "I got figured out. My life was ruined either way." There's a weakness in his voice that betrays him. Each moment he sits here is another moment he feels drained.

               "To me, I think it shows you wanted to try and make things right.  You wanted to try and make up for your crimes. And that's not going to happen in a regular court of law." He pauses a moment, adjusting the papers once more. "Instead, I believe you can atone for your crimes via participation in the Security Department, Shadow Response Unit. Shadow Operatives for short."

               What the hell? Was he living in some sort of alternate reality? Maybe he had sleepwalked into a TV or something- no, wait, he wasn't stupid enough to do that. So this had to be... real, right? "... You're fucking with me."  
               "I'm completely serious."  
               "... There's a _federal_ division for taking care of mystical TV Murder bullshit."  
               "It's new."  
               ".... You're fucking with me."

               The agent before him cracks a thin smile, the first expression he's actually seen on his otherwise perfectly stoic face. "Believe me, I was skeptical at first as well. But we need Shadow Operatives. More importantly, we need Shadow Operatives who can double as detectives. The Inaba incident... more than proved that. And you're the perfect candidate for the job."

               "What makes you think I'll say yes?" The world is full of shit, after all. But if they're both right, he's going to get shoved back into the world either way. No job. No family. No friends. No connections. And a permanent black mark against his name.  
               "Because if you do, both your confession, interview, booking, and name related to the case will be officially redacted. Wholly classified. You'll have a new start with a guaranteed job."

               He's got to be dreaming. The man across from him has got to be some sort of illusion, some figment of his imagination. There's no way in hell that he's getting an offer like this. A new start, huh? And from the sounds of things, well, this line of work would be more exciting than anything back in Inaba. He wouldn't be stuck in the boonies anymore. Would have a chance at maybe getting his shitty life back together. He sighs, leaning back in his chair again and staring up at the ceiling. "Need some time to think about it."  
               "You have 30 minutes." Silently, the agent folds the file together and stands. Without another word, he leaves, the door closing tight behind him.

               A minute drags on. He could start a new life in a new location, new job. It turns into 10- or was that just the drag of the clock, the sense of impending doom as he's forced to make a choice?  It'd be better than wasting away in some shithole town. At least this sounds like it could be exciting. He looks up at the clock- it's only been 5, but the ticking of the second hand is starting to drive him insane. The monotonous, irritating noise will be the end of him.

               Focus. What does he want? Well, if he was being honest with himself, he wants to get out of this shithole world. But that's not an option- too bored to live, too cowardly to die. At least if he takes the job with Shadow Operatives... Maybe he'll be living by the rules of this world.

10 minutes. He wants nothing more than to smash that clock to pieces. Staring blankly at the mirror ahead of him- he knows that Agent is watching, there's no way he can't be- he opens his mouth to speak.

"So, when do I start?" 

**Author's Note:**

> You know, a funny thing happened on the way to the P4U ending...  
> Honestly this idea started as a joke, because there was a faceless "Agent in Suit" voiced by Johnny Young Bosch.
> 
> And then I started researching.  
> Fun fact: In Japanese courts of law, you can't actually be convicted on confession alone!  
> That said, the case against Adachi holds almost no water. And I think it'd be interesting for him to, instead, end up joining Shadow Ops.
> 
> Anyway, if this gets enough interest, I might actually turn this into a full-fledged AU.
> 
> Special thanks to my betas- Uri, Grace, and Josh!


End file.
